


Crazy on You

by Lizardbeth



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dream Sex, F/M, Season/Series 06, Wistful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-14
Updated: 2011-02-14
Packaged: 2017-10-16 20:08:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/168882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizardbeth/pseuds/Lizardbeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At night, he has only one refuge and only one wish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crazy on You

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://martinius.livejournal.com/profile)[**martinius**](http://martinius.livejournal.com/) for [](http://community.livejournal.com/spn_hetexchange/profile)[**spn_hetexchange**](http://community.livejournal.com/spn_hetexchange/).

_But I tell myself that I was doin' all right  
There's nothin' left to do at night  
But to go crazy on you_  
\--- _Crazy on You,_ Heart

  
***blink***   


There was a blonde in a bikini crawling toward him on the bed, looking sultry. For a moment, he was tempted, but... that wasn't what he wanted.

No.

  
***blink***   


Sam said urgently, "There's a wendigo in this farmhouse up the road. We should go take care of it."

"Sure, let me get -- " Dean started to say, weary but game, but then saw Sam's eyes flip to beetle black.

He stepped back and lifted his knife against the thing that used to be his brother.

Definitely no.

  
***blink***   


"Dean?"

He turned to face the voice. For a moment, he saw the lockers on one side of the hall and it seemed wrong that he was in high school, but then he saw Lisa standing there.

It was a surprise, and yet a good one and he wanted to throw his arms up in a jubilant 'yes' gesture. But mindful of how uncool that would be, he didn't. Instead he smiled and looked at her, glad for the chance to look at her while they were alone.

Long dark hair with a hint of curl tied back in a ponytail, jeans, and a button-up shirt with a V neck that gave him a tantalizing glimpse of skin and the swell of her breasts. And her face, god, he had no idea what those morons were thinking, calling Claudia the hottest chick in school, just because she was blonde and a cheerleader. Claudia didn't even come close to Lisa -- not with that wide smile and those eyes...

Then she frowned at him a little bit and he realized he hadn't said anything. "Uh, hi," he said, and realized that wasn't exactly fitting his standard image to be staring at her. "What are you doing here?"

It was late, most of the lights were off, and there was nobody in the hall except them.

She gave him a curious frown. "I'm decorating for the dance. What are you doing here?"

He had no idea why he was there, standing in the middle of the hall outside the gym. But it didn't matter. He shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Nothing. Hanging out."

It was on the tip of his tongue to say he was there to see her, but he held it back. No need to sound like a creepy stalker. Lisa barely knew he was alive, after all -- she was smart and beautiful, treasurer of the student body, and on the diving team. She dated guys like that prick Justin, star basketball player and future college graduate, not Dean, who was barely passing his classes and that was assuming he stayed in town long enough to complete a year. They only shared history class, where he sat in the back and pretended to pay attention to the teacher while he watched her in the front corner. Sometimes she had the cutest thoughtful frowning face when she was trying to remember something.

"You want to come help?" she asked.

It sounded like something he'd hate, but when she was looking at him like that he couldn't say no and disappoint her. "Sure."

"Really?" She smiled, putting little crinkles at the corner of her eyes. "Great."

When she pushed open the gym door, he saw it was now awash in silver fabric and ribbons, with a giant disco ball hanging from the ceiling. He paused and joked, "It looks like a glitter factory threw up in here."

Her eyes flickered with hurt and he rushed to add, "Sorry, just joking. It looks ... shiny."

It also looked empty. He was no expert on high school dance decorating, but he figured it had to take a lot of people, not one. There was nobody else in the whole gym. "Where is everybody?" he asked.

She glanced at him. "They went home. We're almost done for tonight, so I said I'd finish up."

"And they left you here by yourself?" he asked, outraged. What kind of so-called 'friends' just upped-and-left her on her own, at night? What if he had been a bad guy? Or if there had been some sort of creature --

'Creature'? He'd been watching too many horror flicks while Dad was away. There was no such thing as monsters.

She glanced at him. "I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself." She started across the open dance area to the tables on the other side.

"Well, sure, but still." He followed her and at her gesture started spreading the tablecloth over the other table, just as she was doing.

"So, who are you going with?" he asked. "Justin?"

She seemed very interested in making sure the top was wrinkle-free, smoothing it unnecessarily. "No. We broke up."

The words came out, heedlessly. "Good, he's a dick."

She shot him a look then laughed ruefully. "Yeah. I caught him making out with Emily behind the bleachers. So I told him he could take her to the dance and he could go screw himself."

"Emily?" He'd kissed Emily once -- she was cute, but she came onto any guy with a pulse. Once that kind of easy lay would've appealed to him, but not anymore. "They deserve each other."

"Here, it's crooked on this side." She straightened his tablecloth and smoothed it flat, then looked up at his face. "What about you?"

He shrugged. "It isn't my thing."

"Oh." He wondered if he caught the flash of disappointment on her face or was just imagining it as she turned away. He was probably imagining it. She wasn't thinking about going with him? Or maybe she was -- she didn't have a date anymore, and he was there, and he didn't have a date either... and it was wrong that she'd decorated the gym and didn't have a date.

Then he blurted it out, his mouth getting ahead of his brain again, "You want to go with me?"

Breath caught in his chest with sudden nervousness, he realized this was why he didn't do this sort of thing. This sucked, waiting for her to laugh at him, even dreaming that she'd think about it. Waiting to hear the words to let him down easy..

He was listening so hard for the excuse, he almost missed it when she answered, "I'd love to. I have my dress already, but it's sort of last minute, are you sure you can get something together by tomorrow night?"

He gaped at her, brain stuck on the part where he thought he heard her say yes. "Really?"

Her smile was so brilliant. "Really. C'mon, best looking guy in the school? The girls will be jealous I actually got you to go."

At first taken back by her words, he recovered and matched her smile, "And you can tell them I'd only come to one of these lame school dances with their crappy music because of you."

Her flirty smile faded a little, but there was a look in her eyes that made him think about how much he would really like to touch her and kiss those lips. She moved closer to him, not losing eye contact, circling around the table. She lifted a hand to push her hair back to tuck it behind one ear.

"You know, when you first walked into the school, with all that badass attitude, I knew you were going to be trouble," she murmured.

She had noticed him? But he tried to stay cool. "It's my middle name."

"'Badass attitude' or 'trouble'?" she teased, tipping her head back a little as she got near enough to touch.

"Both."

"Oh yeah?" she asked, leaning closer so her breath feathered across his skin. "Care to prove it, Winchester? Otherwise I'm going to think you're all talk."

Instead of talking, he kissed her, lips insistent, and there was something familiar about it, easy. There was no fumbling, no mistaken cues, just her mouth joining with his, so perfectly it threatened to steal his breath. Her lips parted, and she moaned into his mouth, as his hands slid around her waist to pull her into his body.

As if they could think for themselves, his hands slipped up her back to tangle in her soft, soft hair as she bent her head back. He pulled his lips from hers to nip and taste at her skin, thirsty for it as if it was something he'd tasted before and needed it again. His hands caressed her, the hollow of her back and the curve of her ass, while her own hands were all over his neck and running through his hair.

"Dean, Dean," she murmured breathlessly, but not in objection or complaint, more as if it was the only thing she could think of to say.

He cupped his hands and lifted, staggering a bit but able to get her up on the table. She promptly wrapped her legs around his hips, bringing him against her tightly. Her hands gripped his shoulders tightly and then fell to the table to support herself, as he kissed down her throat.

She smelled so good - remnants of some sweet smelling soap and a little sweat, clean and pure.

"There's no one else here," she told him. "Just us." She stripped off her shirt, leaving creamy skin and breasts nearly falling out of her smooth satin bra. Closer he saw the light freckles on her shoulders and between, deciding her should kiss each one as his fingers pulled down the straps and with one hand he opened the clasp in the back and it seemed to fall so slowly...

"Oh, god, you are so beautiful," he whispered. "I don't... I don't deserve this. I don't..."

Her hands framed his face and she looked into his eyes, somber and yet deep. "Believe me," she told him. "Believe, Dean. This only happens if you believe it."

He didn't know if he believed it, but he wanted to - with every fiber inside, he wanted to believe this was real, this was happening, she was here and he was here, and he could love her as she deserved.

Her hands pulled him down to her breast, and he knew what to do to make her shudder and gasp. When she was totally bare beneath him and he was, too, when she was still on the table, her legs spread wide in offering, as he knelt on the floor to worship her with his lips and tongue.

And he knew what she liked, how to touch, the pressure on her clit, nose breathing in her deep scent from her hair, and his tongue gathering up the moisture between her folds, Her feet pressed against his shoulders and her back arched, gasping his name like a breathless prayer.

He had to hold her legs when she started writhing, and she nearly shoved him away with those slim, strong legs. Her hands bunched to claws, nails sliding helplessly on the table, and gathering silver cloth in her fists.

Then she shuddered, hips pressing against him, and she froze stiffly, heat gathering against his tongue and under his fingers as she flushed.

He gentled his motions, easing her down, and she panted and relaxed. Then her eyes opened and found his, as he lifted his head to meet her eyes across her body.

"That... was phenomenal," she told him, grinning and licking her lips.

"That's a big word," he joked, "But I think you liked it?"

"Fuck yeah, Winchester. Come here," she held up her hands and pulled him on top of her, kissing him thoroughly. Her delicate hands caressed down his skin to the top of his shorts and tugged at them. "Off," she murmured into his mouth, "Off now. We're not done yet, unless that really is a banana in your pocket."

He grinned. "I'm happy to see you." Shucking his underwear took only a moment, and pressing into her was like coming home.

Closing his eyes, hands on the table to either side of her, he felt the embracing heat of her, and her strong, slim legs around him, and the touch of her hands on his chest...

So ready... needed this, needed her so much...

But he couldn't tell her, couldn't give her what she deserved, couldn't hold back the bad from her, couldn't keep her safe...

He kept it slow and deep trying to give her this, at least. Something good, something to remember later, even if it was poor payment for everything.

He clenched his jaw trying to hold back, as she held him inside and outside, until she was gasping again and then thrust against him, meeting him and he was lost in the haze of her body all around him.

And it didn't matter that none of this should be happening.

He believed and that was enough.

  


  
***blink***   


He pulled the Impala up to her house and sat there, looking at it, wondering what he was doing. Homecoming? He wanted to bang his head against the steering wheel repeatedly for asking her. This was not his thing. At all. He was going to look like a fool. Sammy had laughed at him, but Dad had clasped him on the shoulder and nodded approvingly, so that was something. Mom had smiled at him, delighted, and fussed over his clothes and getting Lisa a corsage. He'd rejected the corsage as stupidly expensive, but he had stolen a red carnation from the supermarket, which was on the passenger seat.

Inhaling a deep breath, he picked up the flower and shoved the door open. He'd barely started up the walk to the front door, when it opened.

With the light behind her, Lisa stood in the doorway, and suddenly all his misgivings dissolved away. She was wearing a short blue satin dress that hugged her breasts and hips and made her legs look endless. She smiled widely in greeting. "Hey."

"You... look amazing," he told her, not able to take his eyes away from all that creamy skin of her neck and chest.

"Thanks, you look good, too," she said, then she added in an amused tone, "Eyes. Up here, Dean."

He snapped his gaze upward, with a grin, trying to pretend that he totally hadn't been remembering touching and kissing all of that she was putting on display.

"This is for you," he handed her the flower. She sniffed it appreciatively and grinned.

"Thank you. Now, introduce me to your car?" she asked, taking his hand with an ease that he didn't even know what to do with. So he left his hand in hers and they went back down the walk.

"It's my dad's but he lets me drive it," Dean said and opened the door to let her inside.

Lisa patted the dash when Dean slid into the driver's seat. "It's a great car. Beautiful."

The Impala seemed to purr more than usual, as if in approval for her new passenger. Dean kept shooting glances at Lisa, still amazed that she was there when it didn't seem possible that they were going to Homecoming together. There was a curl of her hair loose on her shoulders, and he finally couldn't resist reaching across and drawing it between his fingers.

She said nothing, glancing at him with a contented smile and let him brush her bare shoulder.

At the dance, they walked in together, and he could feel the stares and hear the whispers -- " _what's Lisa Sampson doing with that loser?_ "

But Lisa took his hand again and led him inside the silvery, shining hall, and he decided to ignore all the bitches and dicks who didn't know anything.

Across the way, he spied their table and his gaze met Lisa's. Her lips lifted in a grin for the shared secret and then she slid her hands around his waist. "Let's dance," she whispered.

"This is a terrible song," he whispered back, into her ear. But his hands fell to her hips, and feeling her sway against him, the scent of her lightly flowery perfume against her neck making his heart pound.

It didn't matter that it was some obnoxiously fast electropop garbage, he held her tight and closed his eyes, as they danced.

  


  
***blink***   


Dean opened his eyes to the dim confines of the motel room. Dawn's light was filtering through the thin curtains and the little yellow happy faces in the wallpaper mocked him with false cheer.

He sat up with a sigh and looked around, seeing the open bottle next to the bed, his bag on the far table, and... no one else. For a moment, if he turned quickly enough, maybe he'd see her get up from the other side of the bed... or if he was very still, he'd feel her hands on his back and her lips on his neck...

But he was alone.

His phone was on the bedstead, and he picked it up.

No calls. Not that he thought there would be.

His thumb automatically pressed four -- and he looked at her name.

 **Lisa**

His thumb hovered over the 'send' button and he closed his eyes, remembering every detail of the dream ... _dancing with Lisa, seeing her eyes bright and smiling again, feeling her touch, his fingers in her soft hair and softer skin under his lips..._

 _If only..._

But it was only a dream.

The phone went back on the table, call unmade.


End file.
